


The Grumpy Man in Blue

by susiephalange



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Divorce, Dr!Reader, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Medicine, Outer Space, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Tenderness, nurse reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-18
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 17:27:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8065501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: Reader is aboard the USS Enterprise, and works with Dr. McCoy. Or, known to as his staff as the grumpy guy, which everyone tries to take advantage of, and try and make him not be his sarcastic self for a while. Or, at least until a special guy from HQ comes down to give Reader a heads up on her boss...





	

**Author's Note:**

> You have no idea how much I love Bones. He's my favourite in Star Trek for the simple reason that he's so sarcastic and I love metaphors. If I ever met Bones, he'd be first, much, much taller than me, and more importantly, much better than me because I would be nearly useless out in space on the Enterprise. Unless they want a creative writer?? That's basically my use in life. 
> 
> I actually pre-wrote this because I have to get my wisdom teeth out today (all four out in the dentist's chair) and well, apart from being super uber nervous, I didn't want to deprive my readers and fellow fic lovers of some prime fanfic I concocted for you. Please wish me luck!

"Nurse ________ ... look me in the eye and tell me that you love your job."

You raise your head, and gaze into the brown eyes which stare you down. "Dr. McCoy, I love my job."  
  


 

 

 

On the USS Enterprise, there was little to do but duties. It was five years; longer than you had studied your degree in psychology _and_ in Starfleet. It would make anyone restless, homesick for a planet which had all of your family and friends aboard. Not that this spaceship was uncomfortable. No, no, it had some of the greatest people ever to graduate and be named heroes by Starfleet. Captain Kirk. Mr. Spock. Mr. Sulu, Mr. Scott...Dr. McCoy.

He was a grumpy, terribly stubborn man, whose grim frown could darken a doorway further than three feet away from where he stood. He had done many great things for the medical field, yes, but there was something that a trained psychologist-slash-nurse could pick up from him which he didn't want touched. It almost irritated you, but...you never let it get to you. You were a professional. And despite what people thought of medical staff, you got your job done.

At first, you noticed his grumpy nature firsthand. Your fellow nurses and doctors had been around him for only a mere four minutes when the first batch of sarcasm struck, and before you knew it, most of the people in your division made a pool to debate if there could be one person to remove his usual frown for the longest amount of time. There was no time limit, but it felt strange being around people who went out of their way to make the grumpy grump of a CMO scowling, and ultimately, making life hell for people in his warpath.

But no matter how many nurses trying to butter him up with dates and nights off spent with choice alcohol, you could read him like a book, and though it was written in another language, you could see something wrong.

On certain days, he would forget to shave. His uniform and hair would be unkempt, frown lines deeper. His voice harsher. Hands unsteady. But no matter what mood he would be in, his attention to practising medicine would not waver.

"It's useless," Simon, a technician, sighed, head held in his hands. "The longest he's gone without being a Grinch has been fifteen minutes."

Anders nodded, flicking potato across the tables to hit a red shirt. "Tell me. That was Martinez after he told a him a really boring story, at the end of the shift," the nurse rolled her eyes, pouting. "You put the damn man to sleep, not made him less grumpy."

Martinez shrugged, his shirt swimming more so than usual on his small frame, "It's not my fault he frowns in his sleep - but at least he didn't yell at anyone!"

A shadow darkens the table you are all seated at in the cafeteria, and accompanied by a throat clearing, you glance up to see firsthand, the face of the captain himself, Jim Kirk smirk, "You're not talking about who I think you're talking about, are you?" he grins.

Simon scrambles to his feet, smacking his knees as he rises to salute. "Captain! We - no! We weren't gossiping!"

Anders shakes her head, and scoots closer to you to make room for the captain. "We totally were talking about Dr. McCoy. It's lunch, man, and he's not here. Care to join the loser table?" she offers like she speaks to the man in charge like she often converses with people up on the main bridge of the ship on the regular.

"You know what? I'd love to." Jim grins, lowering himself into the bench. Opposite, Simon is beacon of red, a human embodiment of a blush, and Martinez is silent. "So, what's the hot talk down in the Medbay? You know, besides my good friend Bones."

"I've been working with engineering to create an early warning device to be set up at entrances and exits to warn of foreign bacteria contracted while on an unexplored planet," Martinez blurts out.

Kirk raises a brow. "That's so cool! Good job, man!"

You push your plate away from you. "What brought you here, Captain?" you ask, leaning forward to see through Anders' tall hair. "You're not one to traipse into the cafeteria often, and I sense an ulterior motive here."

Kirk raises his eyebrows.

"Don't mind her," Anders pushes you back, giving a big toothy smile, "She's the leading psychologist on board."

Captain Kirk grins. "You read me like a book, Miss..."

You hold your hand out across Anders' front for him to shake. "Nurse ________, pleasure to meet you Captain," you greet, and add, "Although I'm a doctorate in psychology, but nurse in medicine."

Martinez rolls his eyes. "Why don't you just call yourself Dr. ________?" he blurts.

The captain nods. "Why not?"

Anders slides down the bench as so to sit on the floor below the table, and ignoring her dramatics, you brush hair from your face. "If I was just a psychologist on Earth, sure, but here...I'm not here to analyse the mind primarily. I don't want to be confused as overqualified in an emergency, plus, it's embarrassing to have a PhD at twenty." you admit.

Simon nods. "Tell me about it..."  
  


 

 

After lunch is over, you feel a hand on your elbow, and glance up to see the honey-mustard yellow shirt that stood out over the lunch table like a sore thumb. It's the captain, and in his eyes is a look you're used to hearing over and over again from your superior officer Dr. McCoy.

"I need to ask you a favour," his voice is low, eyes searching for eavesdroppers not inherently dropping eaves at that moment nearby, "I need you to keep an eye on Dr. McCoy this week. It's ... I know it's none of my business, or yours ... but he needs someone near him he can rely on, and it's -,"

Your face pales. "Are you asking me to interfere with his behaviour if my superior officer becomes grumpy?" The words sound as incredulous and silly as they did inside your head spoken aloud.

Captain Kirk shakes his head, and biting his lip, nods. "Just ... you're a psychologist. You've been around him for a year now ... please, you have to trust me on this." He pleads.

You close your eyes. "You have no idea what trouble I can get into for spying on my boss," you gush, but before the yellow-clad man before you can speak more words to convince you, you add, "But I'll do it. Because whatever he's going through, I can help more than anyone else aboard this ship."

Jim Kirk goes to interrupt, but a woman calls his name out. She's wearing red, and looks in a hurry. "Thank you so much, Nurse ______, you have no idea what good you're going to do."

At this, you notice the clock above the doorway, and rush back to where you're supposed to be on duty a minute and a half ago. But as you appear, the usual frowning face of Dr. McCoy doesn't scold you for your tardy timing. He just nods.

The same thing happens for the rest of the week - it's almost as if he's out of it. Yet, his attention to the patients, as always, doesn't waver.

Come Friday, you enter the Medbay bright and early for your ten hour shift. You expect to see the usual red shirt in for a splinter or missing limb, and not what meets your eyes.

He sits on the end of a sickbed, blue shirt stark in the brightly lit barren sickbay surrounding him. Hands clutching his head, lowered, you can't help but remember the promise you made the captain of the ship. From your training as a psychologist, and as a real, live human being, you feel your feet creep up to where he is bent like a man caught up in thoughts and age and circumstance, slowly and surely.

"Dr. McCoy? Are you alright?" you wonder.

He jolts, and in his action, something tumbles from his hand. It makes a small clatter upon the white floors, shining bright like a star caught in a spotlight not a step away from your feet. Slowly, you bend, and pick up what Dr. McCoy dropped.

He clears his throat, "I'm fine, Nurse _______." His eyes are rimmed with red, and stare at you. "May I -,"

You nod, and place the gold band back into the creased palm of the doctor. "Why haven't you said anything?" you whisper, eyes searching his light brown eyes for answers you weren't going to find there.

"Nurse ________ ... look me in the eye and tell me that you love your job."

You raise your head, and gaze into the brown eyes which stare you down. "Dr. McCoy, I love my job."

He nods, his fingers slowly hiding the wedding ring once more. "I love my job," he repeats, not meeting your eyes. "If I'm to remain the CMO of the USS Enterprise, I need to place my past and personal problems on the back burner, no matter the toll on my mental state or whatever," his voice is grating, and Dr. McCoy adds, "Besides, if I'm to be out, you're in."

Your eyes widen. "Dr., that's no way to speak..."

"I mean, if I'm out of order from personal neglect, you're promoted to CMO for the time I am away," he corrects himself. "I'm confident that you can step up to take charge of all the medical officers here to best standard. Better standard than me."

You take a breath, "Sir, please know I'm very grateful to hear that, but ... as a psychologist, and someone who is close to you often, this is no way to treat yourself. I've noticed all week that you've been not yourself. I can only assume this is an unresolved issue that's causing you grief." you place a hand on your superior officer's shoulder, and slowly lower yourself to sit beside Dr. McCoy.

"Why are you damn smarter than me?" he sniffs, head lowered.

You shrug, "I don't mean to be, but if it makes you stop this erratic behaviour, I'd be smarter than you for the rest of this five year mission." You promise, noticing a small smile taking over the face of Leonard McCoy.

"Erratic? Don't you mean grumpy?" he smirks, and glancing down to his hand, his fingers loosen around the small plain wedding band. "I've spent enough time crying over Pam. She isn't coming back, nor I ... I'm going to throw this thing away."

"Sir -,"

Leonard McCoy raises a brow. "I thought you psychologists recommended throwing away traumatic pieces of people's history and whatnot," he challenges, and crossing the room, makes it to the garbage chute where all the dirtied gauze and used casts are cast. “I won’t waste any more time on her.”

 

 

 

Simon isn’t his morose self when Tuesday comes around. At the lunch table, he’s quiet, and eyes wide and the notebook he carries to keep track of the bet on Dr. McCoy is wide open. “You guys won’t believe what I just saw,” he gushes, like a manic maniac hopped up on too much laughing gas. “I just saw the CMO _laughing_.”

Anders shakes her head. “Uh-uh. No way. McCoy doesn’t laugh, Simon.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah, he does! And he hasn’t been frowning since Friday, and that’s almost five days of him being _completely_ out of his mind and probably on the verge of a breakdown -,”

Martinez places a hand on Simon’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s probably temporary.”

You look down at your plate.

“Anders, ask ________ if she knows something,” Martinez raises a brow. “She’s looking really suspicious.”

“_________?” Anders’ practically sings.

“I may or may not have cured the chief medical officer from his blues,” you admit. “But he’s human, and prone to emotions and things, so I’m not completely to blame. It’s confidential, actually, so, I would prefer it if you all don’t pry.”

Anders beams. “Confidential is basically code for horizontal -,”

Simon shakes his head, “No, they wouldn’t have. She’s more of a -,”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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